So , OK , I ’m lucky ; not every driveway offers 300 metrical foot of “ Welcome Home . ” I see that . What I ’m peach about here is concept ; the need to implant something limited at the boundary of the yard where that long day at the office see that welcome turn toward the garage .
That retard Bos , that computer meltdown , that squander sales agreement meeting , that fabrication assembly line lunacy , that 40 minutes of traffic pickle are story . You’rehome . You ’re garden still love you . It ’s decently there to say so .
As previously observe – and much more on that later – our house is about 300 graveled metrical foot back off the road . As such it offer more of an Atta - Boy Bob cheering section than an individual “ Welcome Home ” – especially after a late hospital stay .
Our tunnel
But I have often seen even suburban home that offer up upbeat greetings in section tidy sum : dancing coniferous tree , purple clematis , everlasting hedges , tight pocket of bright flower around a letter box .
When properly plant , the nearly - defeated commuter train can see his home a half - block away , finger a pulsation of upheaval at the flower of crimson roses at his drive ’s edge , know that the journey to and from a boring , depressing line of work might be worth it once the trimmer are in hand .
Yes , there is always the lurking danger of the hated neighbor alerting the section - computer code police that those red roses are forbidden near the postbox , but who says gardeners ca n’t go – and plant – a little hazardously .
Truth be tell , you do n’t have to institute Welcome Home flora in prevent territory anyway . Add dogwoods or red buds to the front 1000 , hooey a lilac in the corner , line the drive with handsome shrubs , set a seasonal mix of foundation plants up there near , well , the foundation .
Make your front K sing , hum and whistle and your plants will yell : “ Welcome Home . We missed you . We were all hoping your knob got transplant to Poughkeepsie . ”
In our case I can sense our flora ’ pending celebration halfway up the J. J. Hill to the star sign . On the left , just at the driveway entrance , is a spreading golden yew in a big mass ; a talent from fabled Louisville landscape architect Theodore Klein .
Across the drive is a kick upstairs bed feature a purple waterfall of Nipponese maple leaf , an alleged dwarf weeping beechwood that never get under one’s skin the memo , and a lanky smoke tree , its leave a phosphorescent green .
Our burrow
in the lead is 150 feet of arched tree limb that make a welcoming tunnel . This was once only graveled driveway , flat pasture and sens . Three small barefaced cypress were embed in the blotto spot on the left . A bare root sugar maple went on the rightfield . A dogwood , decorative cherry and two feisty Cancer the Crab apples were bring . sentence , pruners and then a chainsaw created my burrow . Fed - X truck driver stay fresh it lofty .
Our tunnel
One of the crab apples is the very rare ‘ Uncle Elmer ’ cultivar . Now a slant 30 feet in tallness , it was a natural endowment from my married woman ’s Uncle Elmer – and low enough to take home in a burlap bag .
He and his wife , Aunt Helen , were Old School gardeners . Elmer planted the James Jerome Hill behind their firm in a vegetable garden big enough to prey Wisconsin . Helen , who sewed , quilted and made Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls , could grow roses in mineral pitch .
A favorite family story is of the day it was dread Aunt Helen had a heart attack . An ambulance was called . She refuse to get on board until she washed the dishes – who could leave alone that mess behind ? – and then she refused to go at all . Elmer and Helen are long gone – but not the historied tree .
cry Cercis canadensis
My Welcome Home tunnel opens to a gay website more seasonal in nature . tulip , a weeping red - leaf Cercis canadensis , and quince bush moving ridge to me in spring . Then number peonies , zinnias , marigolds , bottle brush buckeyes and oak tree leaf hydrangea . A yoke of callicarpa ‘ Beauty Berries ’ with their almost iridescent blue berries will recognise me in fall .
Looming above them are three Cornelian cherries , that dogwood outlier put out in chickenhearted flowers in natural spring , and century of bright red cherry in the fall .
Weeping redbud
Further along the private road – up near the house – are two lift beds , one featuring undimmed red and yellow begonias and the other more quiet coral gong , oak leaf hydrangea blossoms fade into pink , and two stone carve figures on a pedestal – perhaps the man and woman of the house .
Bottlebrush Buckeye
All that welcoming power get a recent trial run when I was in the rehab hospital almost two week after spine - fusing back surgery . I feel a captive in bed , mildly depressed , away from all sunshine , well manage for but much too close-fitting to bedpan and a garrulous roommate .
Bottlebrush Buckeye
I was spring liberal on the 14thday . My married woman drove us home . I all but held my breathing space as we turned left at the golden yew , traveled slow through the driveway burrow , again felt the presence of Uncle Elmer and Aunt Helen , banquet on the graceful limbs of the weeping Cercis canadensis , the spiked vigor of the bottlebrush buckeyes , the self-command of the oak leaf hydrangeas , the gawdy show of red and yellow begonias .
I was home – and we all get laid it .
